William Shakespeare Quotes

The body is the one thing you have to say goodbye to. You can hold on to your memories. You can hold on to the spirit. That's part of the package that you love and the part that comforts you.

I admit that death is not just about you, it's also about the people who love you.

For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.

They say that the Dead die not, but remain Near to the rich heirs of their grief and mirth. I think they ride the calm mid-heaven, as these, In wise majestic melancholy train, And watch the moon, and the still-raging seas, And men, coming and going on the earth.

Forget us, forget us all, it makes no difference now, but don't forget we loved it when we were alive.

Death, vicious death, Leave a green branch for love.

I will be dust, but dust in love

The elegy does the work of mourning; it allows us to experience mortality. It turns loss into remembrance, and it delivers an inheritance.

When I die, and people realize that I will not be resurrected in three days, they will forget me. That is the way it should be.

As soon as the dirt is hitting the casket, it'll all be forgotten.

After I die, I'll be forgotten.

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.

Perhaps grief is not about empty, but full. The full breath of life that includes death. The completeness, the cycles, the depth, the richness, the process, the continuity and the treasure of the moment that is gone the second you are aware of it.

When you lose someone, their memory lives on.

We all go to our grave thinking that we will never be forgotten, and we are forgotten ten minutes later.

To us who remain behind is left this day of memories. Every year--in the full tide of spring, at the height of the symphony of flowers and love and life--there comes a pause, and through the silence we hear the lonely pipe of death.

It's too late to fall in love with Sharon Tate / But it's too soon to ask me for the words I want carved on my tomb.

Kisten, please don't leave me," I begged, and his eyes opened. "I'm cold," he said, fear rising in his blue eyes. I held him tighter. "I'm holding you. It's going to be okay." "Tell Ivy," he said with a gasp, clenching in on himself. "Tell Ivy that it wasn't her fault. And tell her that at the end... you remember love. I don't think... we lose our souls... at all. I think God keeps them for us until we... come home. I love you, Rachel." "I love you, too, Kisten," I sobbed, and as I watched, his eyes, memorizing my face, silvered, and he died.

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterward remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.

In death, lie. In living, cry. Carry me home to remember to be remembered.

Love lives on, and hath a power to bless when they who loved are hidden in the grave.

We have only a little time to please the living. But all eternity to love the dead.

A loss, but who still mourns the breath of one woman, or laments one wife? Though my heart never can forget, how, for one look, she gave up her life.

It's a taboo subject. How the dead are betrayed by the living. We who are living--we who have survived--understand that our guilt is what links us to the dead. At all times we can hear them calling to us, a growing incredulity in their voices, You will not forget me -- will you? How can you forget me? I have no one but you.

How many after being celebrated by fame have been given up to oblivion; and how many who have celebrated the fame of others have long been dead.